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GREYHAWK CY 576: GREAT LEGENDS RETOLD -- CAMPAIGN THREAD
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<blockquote data-quote="MacConnell" data-source="post: 7557815" data-attributes="member: 6855223"><p><strong>No More the Spectral Lynx</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>The young man could not fail to hear the words of the two behind him. The fact that the tops of his ears had long ago been cropped had no effect on his hearing. It did, however, give further credence to the enigma of his existence, could his features have been seen under the desert garment.</p><p></p><p>The young man was dressed in the full over-robe common to the caravaners who traveled across the open sands of the driest desert. It was fully white and billowy, blowing with the slightest of breezes. His head and face were completely covered with a like-made, white abaya. His stature and movement betrayed him as a young man. He reached up with a right hand to calm the camel at his side. The hand was alabaster white marred at the wrist by a reddish-purple abrasion, indicating that this young soul had recently been a slave, a practice not uncommon in this land, yet only really promulgated by the Scarlet Brotherhood to the East. Had he been a thief, the hand, itself, would have been missing from the end of the wrist.</p><p></p><p>The wide sleeves of the cooling garment allowed for the young man to easily reach inside to the more closely fitting and functional clothing, underneath. A breeze clipped the garment around his legs, showing that he wore the loose white pantaloons of the desert people tied above the tops of a pair of fairly well-made dark leather boots. The knee-high boots were laced in such a manner to indicate that they were a bit large for their wearer.</p><p></p><p>He thought back over the past few days. Two days across the burning desert, he had allowed the camel to have its own head and this where it had lead him. Most people do not give camels enough credit for their memory of where they had been watered. Chained to the sleeping camel with a shackle about his right wrist, the necromancer who had held him captive for five years, the man who had cropped his ears, had no idea of the lad's affinity with animals. He had been chained by both wrists or chained to physical objects until the pion tomb raider had no such secure object by which to chain him. He figured the large heavy camel would be secure enough.</p><p></p><p>It only took the one mistake. The camel looked at him as the picked shackle fell loose. The young man did not even need to speak a single word. He made no sound at all. He placed his left hand upon the sitting animal and it laid its head back down to sleep. The long dagger was hidden on the other side of the mount. The petty wizard had no chance as the silent lad stabbed it straight through his throat while he slept. The fool should have set some magical deterrence. The lad had to wait until first light to strip the man and confiscate his belongings. He left the body, naked, in the desert for the vultures. There was no telling how many corpses had found there final destination in that barren waste.</p><p></p><p>The young man spoke to the the gate guards in the tongue of an Eryptian. The inflection and accent were right, but the voice, though masculine, was a bit too melodic and smooth. An acute student of linguistics would have wagered it to be an Elven voice, another enigma. He spoke through the cloth covering his face, refusing to use gesture or use body language as he conveyed his thoughts. He was explaining to the guards that his people had been captured by a tribe of the horsemen who preyed upon the less armed tribes to sell them for slaves. He, alone, had managed to escape and was hoping to sell some the wares to gain passage to the Keep in order to purchase food and refreshment.</p><p></p><p>With the typical lack of concern born to gate guards who hated their jobs, and often their lives, the guards motioned for him to step aside, to make way for paying customers; he then switched to the common trade tongue in a deliberate use to have others waiting in line to hear him. "<span style="color: #008000">I have recently escaped capture of slavers. I do not have the gate fee. I need to trade for it or sell some wares to enter. I am one man looking for food and drink. I have had enough trouble and do not wish for more</span>."</p><p></p><p>[spoiler=Bluff]d20+5 = 12 + 5 = 17[/spoiler]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="MacConnell, post: 7557815, member: 6855223"] [B]No More the Spectral Lynx[/B] The young man could not fail to hear the words of the two behind him. The fact that the tops of his ears had long ago been cropped had no effect on his hearing. It did, however, give further credence to the enigma of his existence, could his features have been seen under the desert garment. The young man was dressed in the full over-robe common to the caravaners who traveled across the open sands of the driest desert. It was fully white and billowy, blowing with the slightest of breezes. His head and face were completely covered with a like-made, white abaya. His stature and movement betrayed him as a young man. He reached up with a right hand to calm the camel at his side. The hand was alabaster white marred at the wrist by a reddish-purple abrasion, indicating that this young soul had recently been a slave, a practice not uncommon in this land, yet only really promulgated by the Scarlet Brotherhood to the East. Had he been a thief, the hand, itself, would have been missing from the end of the wrist. The wide sleeves of the cooling garment allowed for the young man to easily reach inside to the more closely fitting and functional clothing, underneath. A breeze clipped the garment around his legs, showing that he wore the loose white pantaloons of the desert people tied above the tops of a pair of fairly well-made dark leather boots. The knee-high boots were laced in such a manner to indicate that they were a bit large for their wearer. He thought back over the past few days. Two days across the burning desert, he had allowed the camel to have its own head and this where it had lead him. Most people do not give camels enough credit for their memory of where they had been watered. Chained to the sleeping camel with a shackle about his right wrist, the necromancer who had held him captive for five years, the man who had cropped his ears, had no idea of the lad's affinity with animals. He had been chained by both wrists or chained to physical objects until the pion tomb raider had no such secure object by which to chain him. He figured the large heavy camel would be secure enough. It only took the one mistake. The camel looked at him as the picked shackle fell loose. The young man did not even need to speak a single word. He made no sound at all. He placed his left hand upon the sitting animal and it laid its head back down to sleep. The long dagger was hidden on the other side of the mount. The petty wizard had no chance as the silent lad stabbed it straight through his throat while he slept. The fool should have set some magical deterrence. The lad had to wait until first light to strip the man and confiscate his belongings. He left the body, naked, in the desert for the vultures. There was no telling how many corpses had found there final destination in that barren waste. The young man spoke to the the gate guards in the tongue of an Eryptian. The inflection and accent were right, but the voice, though masculine, was a bit too melodic and smooth. An acute student of linguistics would have wagered it to be an Elven voice, another enigma. He spoke through the cloth covering his face, refusing to use gesture or use body language as he conveyed his thoughts. He was explaining to the guards that his people had been captured by a tribe of the horsemen who preyed upon the less armed tribes to sell them for slaves. He, alone, had managed to escape and was hoping to sell some the wares to gain passage to the Keep in order to purchase food and refreshment. With the typical lack of concern born to gate guards who hated their jobs, and often their lives, the guards motioned for him to step aside, to make way for paying customers; he then switched to the common trade tongue in a deliberate use to have others waiting in line to hear him. "[COLOR=#008000]I have recently escaped capture of slavers. I do not have the gate fee. I need to trade for it or sell some wares to enter. I am one man looking for food and drink. I have had enough trouble and do not wish for more[/COLOR]." [spoiler=Bluff]d20+5 = 12 + 5 = 17[/spoiler] [/QUOTE]
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GREYHAWK CY 576: GREAT LEGENDS RETOLD -- CAMPAIGN THREAD
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